


Grandmother

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, rot-and-fall-out-of-your-head fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: In which a teenage boy gets himself a whole collection of boyfriends, and his poor sweet grandmother is just being dragged along into this ridiculousness, completely against her will.(Yeah, right.)Part of theLove and Other FairytalesVerse





	Grandmother

**Author's Note:**

> First in the... idk expanded universe? of [ Love and Other Fairytales ](http://archiveofourown.org/series/1111962) Verse

Roman didn’t really have plans for his Saturday, and neither did Mamaw, as far as he knew. He might go see Logan, and they probably needed to stop by the farmer’s market before it closed at one, but other than that, he wasn’t really expecting anything in particular.

But the absolute  _last_  thing he expecting was for the front door to slam open in the middle of breakfast, cracking so hard against the wall that Roman was concerned it might have snapped clean in half. Roman jumped, sloshing coffee all over himself, and Mamaw dropped the spatula she was holding entirely.

_“May! Roman!”_

Mamaw clicked off the gas for the stove and both of them rushed towards Virgil’s voice in the living room.

They entered to a pale and shaking Virgil, holding a similarly pale but also clearly exasperated Patton in his arms.

“Everything’s fine, you don’t have to freak out,” he said wearily, “I’m so sorry Ms. Gage, I promise everything’s alright,”

Virgil scowled, hitching Patton up higher and curling him into Virgil’s chest.

“He’s all hot,” he said, clearly terrified, “And he’s throwing up and he wont stop coughing and sweating and-”

“I have the stomach flu, sweetheart,” said Patton gently, “I  _promise_ I’m fine,”

“Who could you have caught a flu from, you’ve been with  _me_ ,”

“Um, actually,” said Roman carefully, “That might be my fault,”

Virgil looked confused.

“You haven’t been sick,” he said warily.

“Not  _that_  sick,” said Roman, “I didn’t throw up or anything, I just got a headache and a little nausea. But Patton’s kind of prone to that thing. I didn’t think I’d still be contagious the last time I visited,”

“See,” said Patton wearily, “No big deal. I’m really fine, honey,”

Virgil was beginning to look distinctly embarrassed.

Mamaw rolled her eyes.

“Well, put him on the couch,” she groused.

Patton actually whined.

“Can it,” said Mamaw.

“I don’t  _want_  soup,” said Patton petulantly.

“Yer sick. Ya get soup,”

Patton continued to mutter, his voice uncharacteristically mutinous.

“…don’t  _want_  soup…”

Roman’s mouth quirked, and he sat at one end of the couch as Virgil laid Patton across it. Looking forward to soup or not, Patton seemed perfectly happy to rest his head in Roman’s lap. Roman tangled his fingers in Patton’s curls and Patton sighed contentedly.

Virgil sat on the floor in front of the couch, and Patton immediately laid one hand against his neck. Some of the tension went out of Virgil’s shoulders.

Mamaw had mason jars of homemade chicken soup in the chest freezer specifically for such occasions. It was only a few minutes before she called for assistance, and Virgil shot up to help.

They returned, Virgil with the soup and Mamaw with a mug of tea that reeked of lemon and honey and all manner of bitter herbs, as well as a bottle of normal cough syrup. Roman wrinkled his nose in sympathy.

“Up,” ordered Mamaw.

Patton huffed, but he did sit, taking the bowl from Virgil and setting it in his lap before accepting the tea from Mamaw.

“Thank you, Granny,” Patton said tiredly, bringing the mug to his lips.

And then he pretty much instantly choked, turning bright pink.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he blurted.

Roman was trying very hard not to laugh. Mamaw was clearly attempting to look nonchalant but the wrinkles around her eyes had gone soft and amused.

“Eat the damn soup, Patton,” she said, much softer than she normally would have. Patton hid his flushed face behind the cup and didn’t respond, clearly mortified.

Mamaw mussed his hair as she moved back toward the kitchen, and even hidden behind the tea Roman could see the tiny smile Patton couldn’t quite contain.

* * *

Summer meant potlucks, and potlucks meant cooking, and cooking meant Logan’s house.

Mamaw grumbled about it – said she “much preferred cookin’ in her own damn kitchen, Dorothy,” but Mrs. Sanders always leveled her with an unimpressed expression in response.

“A kitchen that size is perfectly suitable for cooking for just you and Roman, May,” she’d reply simply, “But cooking enough for twenty is going to wind up with your house burning down,”

Mamaw never verbally capitulated, but somehow they always ended up doing the cooking at Mrs. Sanders house anyway.

The counters were strewn with half a dozen peach pies, which Roman was trying very hard not to sneak bits of crust off of (Mrs. Sanders rivaled Mamaw in terms of having eyes in the back of her head, and she didn’t even have a sneaky overgrown pigeon as a full-time spy).

Mamaw had a limited amount of patience for baked goods, or any type of food that required complicated preparation. She preferred foods she could make in a single bowl, toss in a casserole dish, and forget.

Roman, who had grown up on such foods, had never found anything to complain about.

So what was currently in the oven was two dishes, cornbread casserole, with exactly five ingredients one of which was boxed cornbread mix. Mrs. Sanders had rolled her eyes and asked if Mamaw had learned a single new recipe in the past fifteen years.

“Why would I?” grumbled Mamaw, “If it ain’t broke…”

The three of them – Logan, Thomas, and Roman – had elected to hover in the kitchen, listening to stories that alternated between Mrs. Sanders and Roman’s mom raising various kinds of hell as teenagers (Mamaw), or Mamaw doing her level best to offend the sensibilities of every PTA parent in the corporation limit for as long as anyone could remember (Mrs. Sanders).

When the timer eventually went off, Mamaw pushed her chair back but Roman got up before she could manage, kicking one of the back legs with his foot.

“Sit down before you break a hip,” he said brightly, going for the oven.

Mamaw rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue.

Roman hadn’t cooked around Logan in a while. He’d kind of forgotten to mention a bit of a weird quirk.

So it was really not Logan’s fault that when Roman reached into the oven and grabbed one of the casserole dishes with his bare hand, Logan absolutely  _flipped out_.

He was across the room in a second, yanking Roman back from the oven and sputtering about “distracted idiots” and “not paying even a modicum of attention” and “a wonder you haven’t been decapitated for how little awareness you have-”

It took a long few seconds of Roman staring at Logan in bewilderment to figure out what the hell he was talking about. In the meantime, Logan’s voice began to peter off, turning Roman’s hand over in his own and scrunching his face up in confusion.

“You… you are not burned,” said Logan, baffled.

“Sorry,” said Roman, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I forgot you didn’t know,”

“How are you not burned?” said Logan incredulously.

“Witch, remember?” said Roman. “Fireproof. Pretty convenient.”

“Fascinating,” said Logan continuing to turn Roman hand back and forth, “You aren’t even red,”

Roman smiled fondly.

“Nope. Just felt like a mug of warm coffee,”

“It’s a remarkable trait,” Logan said again, his tone a little distracted. He turned his head slightly towards the kitchen table but didn’t look away from Roman hand.

“Nana, do you share this immunity?”

The room went very quiet, but Logan didn’t seem to notice. Roman bit the inside of his mouth. Mrs. Sanders had frozen with her glass of tea halfway to her mouth and Mamaw was watching Logan with an amused expression on her face.

After several more silent moments, Logan did turn, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Ms. Gage?” he prodded.

“Yeah, I do,” she said. Thomas had both hands over his mouth and his eyes shut tight, clearly trying to keep himself from losing it.

Logan glanced around at all of them, confused.

“What?” he said defensively.

“Nothing, Berry,” laughed Thomas.

Logan didn’t look convinced.

Mrs. Sanders set down her ice tea, and Roman couldn’t tell what emotion she was projecting but whatever it was, there was a  _lot_  of it.

“Can I get the casserole before it burns?” said Roman fondly. Logan turned a little pink around the ears, releasing Roman’s hand and nodding.

“Thank you,” said Roman, and he couldn’t resist giving Logan a quick peck. As he turned back to the oven he saw Logan go from pink to red as Thomas made some kind of suggestive face.  Mrs. Sanders and Mamaw both gave Thomas warning looks, and he returned to his sandwich with a deceptively innocent expression.

Roman wondered how long it was going to take Logan to realize what he’d said. Roman sincerely hoped he was present when he did.

* * *

Roman didn’t really know what Virgil was expecting for a reaction when he walked into Roman’s house looking like…  _that_.

He couldn’t imagine the thought process. Virgil was  _covered_  in web, clearly having spent all day building one, and he looked like he’d given himself all of a cursory swipe of loose thread before coming straight to Roman’s house.

Patton had spent the day with his parents, and had just come back to Roman’s house to meet Virgil in order to return to the forest. Roman had been with him, and Logan had gone with Virgil, ostensibly for magic-learning purposes but considering he was also mussed with thread (though not nearly so bad as Virgil) Roman suspected they’d just been making out in a web hammock.

Which he was not a little bit jealous of and also  _not thinking about with his grandmother in the room._

Mamaw was in the kitchen when they entered, so she didn’t see them right away. She poked her head out of the doorway just as Virgil was about to sit down on the couch.

“Oh,  _no_ , you do  _not!_ ” she grouched, storming into the room swinging a dish towel like a weapon, “Absolutely not, get  _off_  my damn sofa you overgrown insect,”

“What the-”

Mamaw was already dragging Virgil back towards the door by the back of his neckline, grumbling the whole way.

“Walk into my house all sticky like ya own the place, god damn pixie,”

“ _Pixie?_ ” exclaimed Virgil, and Patton snorted like he couldn’t quite stop himself.

Roman was trying to maintain composure himself, but it was fairly difficult – especially because he knew that Virgil, who towered over Mamaw and was  _magic_  besides, was perfectly capable of breaking her hold and sitting wherever he wanted, and yet was seemingly making no effort to do so.

“You are not sittin’ on  _any_  of my damn furniture until you get all that shit off a’ ya – and don’t think I don’t see you, Logan Sanders, out,”

Logan flushed and hurried to follow them. Virgil was halfheartedly swatting at Mamaw’s hands.

Mamaw dragged Virgil out the front door, Logan close behind, and Roman, unwilling to miss a single second of this hilarity, followed the three of them and leaned against the door frame to watch. Patton poked his head around Roman’s arm.

Mamaw was pulling Virgil down by the front of his neckline now, grabbing at loose thread in his hair and dropping it to the porch. Virgil was muttering in indignation while Logan freed himself of webbing on his own.

“May, would you just-”

“Well, if ya’d done it before you came into the house you wouldn’t have to put up with me now, would ya?” she said.

“You’re pulling my hair, you  _crone_ ,”

“Aw, poor baby,” Mamaw deadpanned.

“Oh for the love of-  _Om_ _a_ , would you  _get off!_ ”

Everybody went dead silent.

Virgil turned bright, searing red.

“I didn’t-”

Virgil’s voice strangled itself on the way out of his mouth, and the blush spread from his face down his neck.

Mamaw started cackling.

“Shut up!” Virgil sputtered.

Mamaw held up her hands in surrender.

“Good grief,” she muttered, “Roman, ya better not get anymore boyfriends, I can’t handle anymore grandkids. At least till y’all start havin’ babies,”

Roman shrieked, mortified, and now the three of them were rapidly catching up to Virgil’s redness.

“Get the sticky shit off a’ ya and come inside,” she said, still half laughing. She patted Virgil affectionately on the face before walking back into the house. Virgil stared firmly at the ceiling of the porch.

Logan patted him sympathetically on the arm.

“It’s not so bad,” said Roman reasonably, “I mean, at least she likes you,”

“Unfortun-”

Virgil voice garbled again, and he groaned and covered his face.

“Whiner,” said Roman happily, kissing the frown off his face. Virgil glared feebly between his fingers.

“Hurry up,” he said with another peck, “I want cuddles before you and Patton have to go,”

Virgil glare softened, and he huffed a laugh against Roman’s mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Virgil.

He glanced back into the open front door.

“You-” his mouth pinched, and he glared deliberately at the door frame.

“You should probably help her with the stupid soup pot, she’ll drop it,” he muttered.

“I’ll be sure to tell her how worried you were,” said Roman solemnly, and he just barely missed Virgil’s grasp as he ran back into the house, cackling.

By the time Mamaw was actually ready to move the soup pot from the stove to the table, Virgil was already back in the house, and if he scowled as he took it from her and pointedly didn’t make eye contact with anyone else in the room, well.

Nobody was gonna call him on it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [ tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](%E2%80%9Dtulipscomeinllsortsofcolors.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) over on tumblr and i take prompts for this verse jsyk (eyes emoji)


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